


When You Least Expect It

by Lovetart77



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Romance, Second War with Voldemort, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-19
Updated: 2007-12-19
Packaged: 2018-10-26 11:35:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10785960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovetart77/pseuds/Lovetart77
Summary: After the fall of Voldemort, Draco and Hermione draw closer and closer to each other while caring for the wounded. Rated RT for future chapters.





	When You Least Expect It

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

Thank you so much to oldenuf2nobetter for the inspiration and th TrioMakesMeHot for being a great beta :)

*************************************************

Hermione sighed tiredly and brought the back of her hand up to wipe the perspiration from her forehead. The patient she was tending to was still as stone as she finished cleaning the stitched gash on one muscular shoulder. Hermione was not trained in healing but in the aftermath of Voldemort’s defeat, every pair of extra hands was helpful. She learned quickly and helped out where she could. This particular injury had been very deep and the Healer had needed to resort to magical stitches to close it. Had the Death Eater’s aim been better, there would be no patching up of a wound, but rather the burial of yet another fallen comrade. Lee Jordan had been very lucky, luckier than a lot of their friends.

“Ok there, Lee?” she asked softly.

The dark young man nodded.

“Thank you, Hermione.”

“Not at all. Try to keep it clean, OK? Those stitches should dissolve in about a week’s time and you’ll be right as rain soon.”

“Is there any change?”

She sighed deeply, frowning.

“Not so far. The Healers can’t find anything physically wrong with Ron, but he’s been unconscious for four days now. We’re all just hoping he wakes up soon.” 

“I hope so too.”

“Well, good night, Lee. I’ll drop in tomorrow.”

“Night.”

Hermione turned and made her way to the tent flap. She stepped out into the warm night air and breathed deeply. All around her were tents similar to the one she had just exited, housing injured witches and wizards, many of them her friends. St. Mungo’s had been half destroyed during the final battle and was unable to care for the dozens of injured so they’d been transported here to the grounds of Hogwarts. The hospital wing had quickly filled, so tents had been erected to hold the overflow. It reminded Hermione a bit of the Quidditch World Cup she had attended back in fourth year, minus the frenzied, jubilant air, of course. Right now all was practically quiet, it being close to midnight. She saw Healers and house elves and a few other helpers like herself, scurrying from tent to tent, bearing trays of potions, supplies and refreshments. The kitchen at Hogwarts was being put to good use. 

As Hermione passed one tent, she happened to glance into the open flap and what she saw paused her in her tracks. She quietly crept a bit closer and caught the softly murmured words.

“It was only a dream, Simon.” The tone was low, melodious.

“I know that but it just seemed so real.” this was followed by a muffled sniff.

“Yes, I know dreams can seem very real sometimes. But there’s nothing to be afraid of now. I’m going to give you something to drink and after you do, I promise no more bad dreams tonight. Will you drink it for me?”

“Will it taste funny?”

“A bit. But if you take it, I’ll give you the chocolate frog that’s in my pocket to chase away the taste. Ok?”

“Ok, Draco.”

Hermione watched as the small boy took a vial of light turquoise liquid from a strong, long fingered hand. After he had swallowed it, Simon smiled in delight at the sweet that was placed in his palm. She recognized the youngster. Simon’s mother was a Healer assistant and his father was an Auror who had been injured during the St. Mungo’s explosion. He had recovered quickly and was now helping to transport the last Death Eaters to Azkaban while his wife and son remained here. Simon himself had sustained some scratches and bruises, as he had been with his parents at the hospital.

“I’m going to check on you in the morning, Simon. And your mum will be back soon.”

“Ok. Good night, Draco.”

“Good night.” 

Hermione hastily took several steps back from the tent flap but she was still fairly close to it when the tall blond figure of Draco Malfoy emerged, an empty tray in his hands. He stopped short at the sight of her and for several seconds all she could do was stare at him. 

 Hermione had been as surprised as anyone else when he chose to remain after the battle to aid in brewing the potions for the injured. He always was good at potions, of course. Top of his class. But she was still taken aback. The Draco she remembered from her school years was selfish and mean. She had seen him a handful times over the course of the last few days, but always from a distance. It had been quite a while since she had been _this_ close to him. Close enough to see the darker blonde threads in his pale silky hair, close enough to see the exact shade of his silvery eyes, the golden stubble on his jaw which glinted in the candlelight that spilled from the open tent flaps around them. This somber figure had no smirk gracing his aristocratic features, no disparaging remark on his full lips, and it unnerved her. Wait, why was she noticing his lips? She shook her head slightly and he raised a single questioning eyebrow.

“Are you unwell, Granger?”

“What? Uh.. No, not at all. Why?”

“You’re staring at me in a most bizarre fashion.”

Hermione felt a blush heating her cheeks and prayed he couldn’t see it in the moonlight.

“I was just.. surprised to see you.”

“Were you?”

“Yes, I was. I mean, I had heard you were still here, but I wasn’t expecting to see you. What were you doing?” she asked, even though she knew the answer.

“A simple sleeping draught. That little boy, Simon, has been having nightmares. What are you doing about so late?”

“I just finished tending to Lee’s injured shoulder and now I’m going to check on Ron.”

“Weasley has still not awoken?”

“Why do you care?” the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. Years of verbal sparring were hard to forget, old habits die hard and all that. His smoky eyes narrowed.

“I was simply making polite conversation, Granger.”

“Since when are you polite, Malfoy?”

“Not to worry. I won’t make the same mistake again.”

And with that he turned on his heel and walked away from her. Hermione stared after his retreating figure. He wore no robes, just a pair of grey trousers and a black knitted tee shirt. When had he grown so tall? Had he always moved with such…such… well there was actually no word for the way he moved. But “sensual” came to mind. As soon as that thought popped into her brain, she smacked her hand to her forehead, hard enough to jolt her.

_What’s wrong with you? That’s the Amazing Bouncing Ferret right there and you were practically ogling his arse as he walked away. Who cares that he’s got a bit more handsome since the last time you saw him? Well gorgeous, really. Get a hold of yourself girl, it’s bloody Malfoy! You need to go to bed._

She gave herself a firm shake and continued walking the remaining way to Harry’s and Ron’s tent. As she opened the flap and stepped inside, the sight that met her caused her heart to constrict painfully within her chest. The tall figure stretched out on the bed was silent and still. Only by staring very hard could one discern the slight rise and fall of his chest. Messy red hair fell over a pale freckled forehead and large hands that were never still normally lay peacefully at his sides. Well, one of them lay peacefully. The other one was being clutched by the slumbering dark haired figure slumped in the chair beside the bed. 

Harry had hardly left Ron’s bedside in the four days since the battle, only fleeting breaks to quickly bathe and eat. As Hermione stared at the two of them now, she felt tears fill her eyes. Her boys. Never one without the other, it had been that way for so long. They protected each other, fought alongside each other and loved each other. Merlin, did they love each other. 

She walked over to the bedside and after brushing a light kiss to Ron’s forehead, laid a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder. He awoke instantly.

“Mione? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I was just coming to check on you two. No change?”

“None at all.”

Harry took his glasses off and scrubbed his hands over his face briskly before replacing them. He looked much older than his nineteen years, with rough beard stubble shadowing his jaw and dark circles beneath his eyes. They looked almost like bruises on the thin skin. 

“You need a real night’s sleep, Harry. Not sitting up in this chair all night.”

“I can’t leave him, Hermione. I told him I’d never leave him. What if he wakes up and I’m not here?” Harry’s voice cracked on the last note and her heart broke. He always tried to be so strong, but he was in so much pain and there was nothing she could do. She knelt at his feet and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist as he shuddered, his head against her shoulder.

“He’s going to wake up, Harry. He’s going to come back to you. He will.” she whispered through her own tears. After a few moments he calmed and pulled back, running his hands through his messy hair. Hermione performed a warming spell on the cooled cup of tea on the table next to him and he took it with a grateful smile.

“How are you doing?” he asked after the first sip. “Where’d you come from?”

“Lee. His cut is healing nicely. Oh! You’ll never guess who I just ran into. Malfoy, of all people.”

“Really? I’ve been meaning to find him and talk to him. So he’s still here, huh?”

“Yes. I was surprised. I thought for certain now that the smoke had cleared that he’d be running back to Mummy.”

“I‘m not so sure about that, Mione. I know I’m the last person you’d expect to defend him, but I think he’s changed. Or rather, something within him has changed. I noticed it right away as soon as he came to us. It took a lot of guts to stand up to his father and cross to our side. I heard he never spoke to Lucius again after that, didn’t even go to the hearing that sent Malfoy Sr. to Azkaban.”

“I suppose. And I can’t deny that he’s doing a lot of good around here, helping the Healers with the potions and all that. It’s just so surreal to think of him as anything other than a selfish brat with the world’s biggest ego.”

“War changes people, Mione. Maybe Draco more than most. We certainly appreciated the information he gave us. It helped us win this fucking war.” Harry sighed tiredly. “I find I don’t care about the past quite so much and I think that’s the way I’ll keep it. I‘m living in the present now, and for the future.” His eyes rested on Ron for a moment, so filled with tenderness and love that Hermione had to blink against a fresh onslaught of tears.

She pondered Harry’s words. Everyone had been extremely skeptical when Draco had up and left Voldemort’s army and begged sanctuary with the Order. He did not give reasons, simply showed up one day. There had been a huge row within the Order, for a lot of the members were quite against trusting anything Malfoy had to say. But Harry had given him the opportunity to speak, to prove himself and earn their trust. He kept very much to himself, rarely speaking to anyone besides Harry and Remus who were the least judgmental amongst them. In the end, he had proven to be very useful and elemental in the capture of several well known Death Eaters, who had in turn divulged the location of Lord Voldemort and allowed the Order to take him by surprise. Well, not entirely by surprise. There had been a very bloody battle, with losses on both sides. However, in the end he had been vanquished for good.

But with victory also came sorrow. Ron had taken a curse while guarding Harry’s back and no one knew which one it was or by whom it was cast. It had given Harry the precious seconds he needed to aim the killing curse at Voldemort but as a result, Ron had been knocked unconscious and still remained so. He was breathing on his own, his heart rate and pulse were fine, it was simply as though he was in a very deep sleep. The Healers gave him a strengthening potion each day but as of right now, nothing had worked.

Hermione’s eyes moved over that achingly dear and familiar face. The face of her first crush, her best friend, one of the bravest and most noble men she knew. For some reason, her thoughts were thrown back to three years previous when Ron had kissed her for the first time. They were both quite nervous. Hermione had harbored a secret crush on Ron since she was fourteen years old and thought that all of her dreams were coming true when he finally got up the nerve to kiss her. It didn’t turn out exactly that way, of course. After that first kiss they had stared at each other for a few silent moments then burst into uncontrollable laughter. When the laughter had subsided, they both professed it just too strange, akin to kissing a sibling. A new page in their relationship had turned then, and she knew they made better friends than anything else. 

Not too long after that, Ron came to her and admitted that he thought he actually preferred blokes, namely Harry. He’d begged her not to tell Harry, certain it would make his best mate uncomfortable. She had agreed and was completely unsurprised when Harry had approached her not a month later to confess that he was quite sure he was in love with Ron. He’d also begged for her silence. She agreed once more, though inside she was just exasperated. She saw the increasingly heated looks Ron bestowed upon Harry and vice versa. In the end she enlisted Ginny’s help in her quest to make her two best friends actually see what was right in front of them. Ginny was happy to help. Her and Harry’s relationship had not worked out, but they were still very good friends and she wanted to see him happy. The four of them went out to a pub one rare night when there was no Order business to attend to and she and Ginny proceeded to get Harry and Ron sloshed then left them together.  That did the trick. They had been inseparable ever since and Hermione really couldn’t be happier for them. She did feel the odd twinge of jealousy now and again, not for either one of them of course, but rather for what they had, what they shared. 

Hermione’s thoughts were interrupted when the tent flap opened and Ginny entered.

“Hey all. No change?”

“Hi Gin. No, none at all. How’s your mum doing?” Harry answered, stifling a yawn behind his teacup.

“Sleeping finally, thank Merlin. George actually slipped her a bit of sleeping draught. She is worried to the point of exhaustion but refused to go to bed. I kept telling her one of us would let her know the instant he woke up but you know what she’s like. Anyway, I just wanted to pop in for a second to see him.”

Ginny crossed to her brother’s bedside and stared at Ron silently for a long moment.

“It’s dead strange, isn’t it?” she finally murmured softly.

“What is?” Hermione asked.

“Seeing him like this. So still and quiet.”

“Yes, it is. But don’t worry, he’ll be up and back to himself soon and driving us all barmy again.” Hermione came up behind the younger girl and squeezed her shoulders reassuringly. Ginny placed her hand over Hermione’s and squeezed back.

“So everyone went home, then?” Harry asked.

“Yeah. I promised them all that I’d send word if anything happened. I just came from Nev’s tent. His Gran just left and he’s doing a lot better tonight.”

Neville had sustained some very serious burns on his arms and chest during the battle amid other assorted minor injuries and Ginny had barely left him, much in the same fashion that Harry had barely left Ron. Ginny and Neville had grown extremely close over the last year and Hermione was very happy for them both. They were actually very sweet together, Neville’s calm and quiet patience balancing Ginny’s spirited personality quite perfectly. 

Suddenly a wave of exhaustion overtook Hermione and she yawned widely. Harry stood and walked over to rub her shoulders gently. 

“I’m not the only one who needs a good night’s sleep, luv.”

“I think I need a bath first.” she said with a tired smile. “I’m going to head up to the castle and have a quick soak before bed.”

She hugged Harry and Ginny tightly after eliciting promises to come and get her if anything changed. After a brief stop at her and Ginny’s tent to grab clean clothing and her bath bag, she walked the short distance to the castle.

It was a bit surreal being here and not being a student. Hogwarts was where she had spent the majority of her adolescent years and she loved the old castle dearly. Everything was quiet around her and she was really looking forward to a relaxing soak with her favorite lemon bubbles.

Hermione was lost in her thoughts as she walked along. It was only when she arrived at the door to the prefect’s bath that she realized it was open. She paused. Who else would be up and about right now? She listened but was unable to detect any noise from within. Perhaps someone had left it open on accident? Drawing a deep breath, she quietly pushed it a bit wider and peeked around the corner. 

At first she saw nothing out of the ordinary. The humid air was scented with the smell of pine and it was obvious someone had recently taken a bath there, but all was still at the moment. Nothing seemed to be amiss and yet…Her eyes widened when they finally caught sight of the room’s other occupant. 

A tall figure was standing by the windows, as still as a statue, their gaze locked on something outside. Even though she couldn’t really discern the other person’s face, she knew who it was, knew who’s long back and surprisingly broad shoulders she was gawking at. The figure bowed his head suddenly and the word that came to her mind was “weary.” He looked unbelievably weary. Hermione felt shameful, staring as she was when he was completely unaware of her presence, but for some unknown reason she was unable to look away. He had apparently just come from the bath, for his hair was still damp and tousled and he wore only a pair of dark grey drawstring pyjama bottoms. Her gaze traveled down the elegant curve of his long spine to the slender waist and hips, finally stopping on the large bare feet resting on the stone floor. All in all, he presented quite a gorgeous sight and she knew she was ten times a fool for looking at him like she did. But there was just something so…. _appealing_ about him at the moment. Almost vulnerable, and for maybe the first time, Hermione saw Draco Malfoy as something other than an enemy. She saw him as simply human. Harry’s words came back to her. _War changes people, Mione. Maybe Draco more than most._ Was Harry right? Had Malfoy changed?

She must have made some sort of noise, for suddenly his head lifted and she was pinned with an intense silvery gaze. For a moment neither of them spoke. Then Hermione took a deep breath and cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize anyone was in here. I’ll come back-”

“It’s fine.” he cut her off. “I’m finished.”

As he turned and walked the short distance to the table where the rest of his clothes lay, Hermione couldn’t help but drink in the sight of his pale skin. His shoulders were broader than she’d have thought, his chest and stomach surprisingly muscled. The light golden hair that dusted his chest narrowed into a trail that led down his navel and disappeared into the waistband of his low slung bottoms. She could see the indent of his hipbones just above the cotton and that image in particular caused her mouth to go dry. Draco pulled a dark tee shirt from his pile of belongings and quickly yanked it over his head. Hermione shook herself from her reverie and cleared her throat.

“Mal-, er, Draco. I, um, I wanted to apologize for being rude to you earlier. You were just being polite and I’m sorry for the way I reacted.”

She saw his eyes widen just slightly before a mask of cool indifference settled over his features.

“It’s fine.” he said once more. “I suppose I took you by surprise. We’ve never shared polite conversation before.”

“No, we haven’t.”

Draco gathered up his things, easing his bare feet into a pair of slippers, and walked towards her, towards the door. He ran long, slender fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face and again she was struck with how ridiculously good looking he was. Their eyes met once more and for the life of her Hermione couldn’t seem to remember to breathe.

“Well, good night then.” she finally stammered.

“Yes, good night.” 

As he brushed past her, Hermione caught the clean scent of pine soap and something else altogether and the combination made her just the slightest bit dizzy. She turned to follow his progress down the hall, unable to look away until he turned and glanced at her over his shoulder with a smirk gracing those full lips.

“Granger, stop gawking at my arse.”

Heat immediately flooded her face and she promptly slammed the door before sliding weakly to the ground. What the bloody hell was wrong with her? Malfoy? _Malfoy??_ They hated each other. Didn’t they? He was a haughty, stuck up, egotistical git and oh how she wanted to do wicked things to him and that gorgeous body. _Wait, where did that just come from?_ She banged her head back against the door and winced at the resulting soreness. What in the name of Merlin was she thinking? Hermione shook her head. This was definitely one of the strangest days of her life. She was exhausted, that was all. She needed a good night’s sleep and she was sure when she saw Dra- _Malfoy_ tomorrow he would once again be the insufferable and selfish prat he’d always been. With a decisive nod, she stood and began filling the bathtub.


End file.
